


Tempting

by bookjunkiecat



Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: Blow Jobs, Established Relationship, Food Sex, Greg knows what Mycroft needs, Inspired by bad Cosmo sex advice, M/M, Married mystrade, Oral Sex, Soft Smut Sunday
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-04-21
Updated: 2019-04-21
Packaged: 2020-01-23 10:39:26
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,602
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18548119
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/bookjunkiecat/pseuds/bookjunkiecat
Summary: Mycroft rarely indulges his sweet tooth, but today Greg knows just what he needs to do to tempt his husband.





	Tempting

**Author's Note:**

> Twitter is once again to blame for this, lol. Thanks to hoomhums for the plot bunny! Follow me @savvyblunders

Spirits high, Greg dashed up the stairs to their flat, keys in hand. The sun was shining, he’d closed out a case--on his own, ta--and even managed to get out of the office at a quarter past five. On the way home he’d been seized by a whim to stop by his and Myc’s favourite bakery; they had the most luscious baked goods and Myc usually resisted but tonight Greg had a plan to get him to indulge. In more ways than one.

 

Smirking in anticipation, Greg jiggled his key out of the door and dropped them in the little dish his husband had bought just for that purpose. Otherwise, Greg admitted, he  _ did _ tend to lose them. Oops, and his wallet. Adding that to the dish, Greg set down the bakery box on the table and shrugged out of his jacket and hung it in the small coat closet--Myc liked things tidy, and Greg liked Myc. Picking up the box, Greg detoured by the kitchen. He had a few things he needed to do and then...then he intended on surprising his man in the home study where he finished his work days. It was their arrangement; Myc came home earlier so they could spend time together, but with the understanding that he often needed to focus on important matters while home. That was what the home study was for.

 

When he had everything ready Greg made his pastry selection with care and picked up the glass of milk he’d poured, heading down the short hallway toward the back of the flat. Myc had the door cracked open so Greg preceded with confidence. If the door had been closed he’d have waited until it was open. Closed meant serious, often highly classified, matters; open was an indication that Myc welcomed company, if not a distraction.

 

_ This oughta be distracting alright, _ Greg grinned, and nudged the door open. “Sweetheart?”

 

Myc was making notes, but he smiled, writing rapidly, “Give me ten minutes, Gregory, and I’ll be all yours.”

 

“Thought you already were?”

 

His husband laughed, “Right you are--” Looking up at last he broke off, eyes widening. “Gregory,” he breathed, pink climbing the creamy length of his throat, “What on earth…?”

 

Greg held up the condensation-beaded glass of milk, “Fancy a snack, love?” He gave a little shimmy of his hips, “Feeling peckish?”

 

Seemingly unable to tear his eyes away from Greg’s erect cock--eye-catchingly crowned with a chocolate frosted doughnut, Mycroft was unusually silent, clearly stricken mute with surprise and lust. The delicate pastry was split a bit from the pressure of accommodating Greg’s girth, and the frosting had cracked. It was an alluring sight regardless, particularly as Greg was otherwise completely nude. Unconsciously Myc licked his lips, pupils darkening. “I... _ am _ feeling rather hungry, now that you mention it.”

 

“Why don’t you take a nibble?”

 

“Well-endowed though you are,” Mycroft smiled saucily, “You don’t quite reach all the way over here.” Leaning back in his chair, he raised a commanding brow.

 

Greg went warm with lust; Myc always had that effect on him, particularly when he used that tone. The bastard knew it as well. Moving with as much allure as he could, Greg crossed the few steps between them and put his hands on Mycroft’s shoulders, leaning in for a kiss. Eight years together, two years married, and each time was still as hot as the first. Hungrily he nipped at his husband’s mouth, drinking in his gasp. His hands smoothed up Myc’s shoulders, one circling his taut throat to feel the vibration of his groan; the other tunneled up the back of Myc’s neck. He scratched at Myc’s scalp, smiling at the shivers it wrought, and fisted a handful of Mycroft’s curls, tugging lightly. 

 

“Scoundrel,” Mycroft gasped when their mouths finally parted. His eyes were shining and he licked his lips, tasting Greg on them. “I believe you promised me a snack…” Running his fingers down Greg’s chest he gave his hard nipples a sharp pinch, tugging just enough to draw a groan from Greg. Letting his hands run commandingly down Greg’s bare sides, he dug his fingers into Greg’s hips, tugging him closer. “I find myself famished.” So saying, he dipped his head and licked the tip of his tongue delicately over the drop of frosting decorating the crown of Greg’s straining cock. Greg shuddered, and felt Mycroft’s lips curve against his flesh. “Mmm…”

 

“Like that?” Greg asked thinly.

 

“Rather different from their usual fare, but I find myself intrigued,” Mycroft growled, and took him between his lips. Burying his fingers in Mycroft’s hair, Greg let his own head fall back, sighing at the familiar swirling of his husband’s tongue over his skin. 

 

“Fuck...sweetheart…”

 

“Mmmm,” Mycroft repeated, more luxuriously, and cast a flirtatious look up through his lashes. 

 

“God…”

 

The tiny nibbling of Myc’s teeth at the doughnut--and not at all coincidentally against his most sensitive skin--nearly sent Greg off then and there. Pulling warningly at Mycroft’s hair did no good, didn’t stop him at all, in fact seemed to spur him on. But then it would, the saucy slut. Biting and licking, he worked his way around Greg’s highly sensitized shaft, warm hands cradling his balls, sliding between his shaking thighs. Each caress and tug, each flash and stroke of that damned clever tongue shot Greg’s pulse higher. He could feel the tingles working their way outward; the heat and tightness in his groin were heightened, and Greg swallowed hard, “Have mercy, Myc...m’not gonna last…”

 

Myc pulled off with an obscene pop and ran his tongue slowly across his shining lower lip. “I’m not quiiiiite done, darling…”

 

“Christ,” Greg moaned, and clung hard to Myc’s hair, unable to stop his hips from flexing. Myc moaned too, encouragingly, and he took that as permission to thrust lightly into his husband’s willing mouth. Bits of doughnut began to patter to the hardwood as the pastry fell apart. Neither of them stopped. Chocolate smeared on his lips, cheeks hot pink, eyes consumed by his pupils, Myc looked up at him as if he had commanded all of his attention, his devotion, his love. Thrusting deeper into Myc’s wet mouth, feeling the curl of his tongue around the underside of his shaft, Greg gasped out a warning. When Mycroft hummed an affirmation to continue, the vibration catapulted Greg into orgasm, and he came with a strangled shout, unable to stop the arch of his hips.

 

Myc drank him down, fingers clenched tight in the meat of Greg’s arse, and it was only as he became too sensitive that he relented, and gently let him go. Greg fell willingly into his husband’s strong arms, unable to trust his suddenly boneless legs to support him. Myc helped him lower himself to his knees, then he tenderly urged him onto his side and then his back. Greg reached for him, and they kissed breathlessly, arms winding tightly around one another. Breath sawing in his chest, Greg pulled Myc over him, feeling the still hard length of his erection against his thigh. “Come for me, love?”

 

It took very little to convince Mycroft to roll his hips against Greg’s body, and Greg held him tight, one hand on his lower back, the other on his arse. “You’re gorgeous, sunshine, God, look at you. Fuck me up, you’re so sexy...yeah...yeah love…”

 

“Greg…!” Mycroft was trembling, eyes wild. He was close, so close, and Greg knew just what he needed. Scooping up a bit of doughnut from the floor by his head, Greg fed it to Mycroft along with praise for how fucking gorgeous he was. Chasing the sweetness of chocolate and his husband, Greg captured Mycroft's lips in a searing kiss and was rewarded with Mycroft’s shaking groan as he came in waves, hips jerking. 

 

Spent, sated, they lay panting on the floor until Greg’s back objected, and he gently nudged his husband up. Helping one another stand, Greg reached for some of the tissues in the mahogany box on Mycroft’s desk and gave them both a cursory cleaning. “You all done in here, love?” Unable to help himself, Greg darted in for a kiss, savouring the taste of chocolate and sex on his husband’s lips.

 

“For now,” Mycroft agreed, turning off the light and obeying his husband’s arm around his waist, which guided him down the hall, “I’m afraid my notes would make little sense if I tried to draft them now.” Myc shook his head, “You are a terrible influence...not only did I eat a doughnut, but I ate some which _ had been on the floor.” _

 

“The Roomba and the twice-weekly cleaner keep it spotless,” Greg argued. He grinned, “Live dangerously, Myc. Eat floor doughnuts and see if the world ends.”

 

Mycroft paused, “We’re not headed for the shower room.”

 

“Well spotted,” Greg teased, kissing his cheek. “‘m not letting you shower. Neither of us is showering,” he hurried on, seeing his husband’s objection rising. “I have plans for the rest of those doughnuts and there’s no use getting clean when we’re gonna get so filthy.” He let his voice drop playfully, tone clear.

 

Myc shivered, hurrying towards their bedroom with renewed eagerness. “How-how many doughnuts did you get, Gregory?”

 

“A dozen of course,” Greg grinned wickedly. “We’ve got eleven more doughnuts and two days to eat ‘em all.”

 

“I look forward to discovering if they all have such interesting filling,” Myc growled, and pushed Greg down onto the bed, pouncing on him. “I find myself insatiably hungry for more of your... _ sweets.” _

  
  



End file.
